


Jonathan Pine Imagines

by sserpente



Category: The Night Manager (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Smut, Smut, Spy!Reader, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-02 22:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17272610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sserpente/pseuds/sserpente
Summary: A collection of all of my Jonathan Pine Imagines. Fluff, angst, (shameless) smut, you name it, it's there! ;-)





	1. (NSFW) Imagine Jonathan Pine seducing you at a party (Part I)

**Author's Note:**

> Here, you can read all of my Jonathan Pine Imagines which can also be found on Tumblr (@sserpente). I mainly post there but this story will be updated as regularly as possible. Side notes: The first few Imagines are over two years old (so please bear with me), some of them are based on requests. If you want to make a request, head over to my Tumblr and send me an ask (but please make sure requests are open first!).
> 
> Rating varies from Teen to Mature and Explicit. The tags I added vary from story to story. Mind the additional warnings!
> 
> Chapter one: Imagine Jonathan Pine seducing you at a party (NSFW) (Part I)

_Words: 3166  
Warnings: smut_

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous!” You complained with a tortured expression on your face, staring at your reflection in the mirror of the fancy hotel room your best friend (Y/F/N) had booked for the two of you. It was Halloween and instead of letting you take a hot bath, watch some scary horror movie and drink absurdly expensive red wine in this luxurious hotel, she would drag you along to this snobby Halloween party in the lobby.

Costumes were a must, which had resulted in (Y/F/N) doing some last minute shopping. You had merely told her about how you wanted to dress up as a black cat, for it was easy, comfortable and convenient to put on. Now that you were looking at yourself in the mirror, however, you regretted the decision of letting her buy you the costume. It was _way_ too revealing. The miniskirt she had gotten you barely covered your buttocks, the thin pullover was cut low and would offer every other guest a broad view of your cleavage and the slight hills of your breasts. With the fluffy tail attached to the skirt, black cat ears clipped into your (Y/H/C) hair and your dark make-up including three thin stripes on each of your cheek drawn there with your eyeliner, you did look like a cat—but much rather a porn cat at that.

“I look like a prostitute, (Y/F/N)! Why do I have to go to that party with you again?” You asked, hearing her giggle in response from the bathroom where she was applying her own make-up. She had decided to dress up as a devil. A sexy devil, not to mention.

“I am heartbroken and I want to spend all of my ex-boyfriend’s money with the credit card I took from him. You will be my support _and_ my security guard if I end up throwing up in the bushes or start riding the baggage cars like a surfboard.” She replied for surely the third time already.

Right. Keith Leonard. Her ex-boyfriend. A cunning billionaire who had blackmailed her into this relationship all the while cheating on her with actual playboy models. It had taken (Y/F/N) a long while to realise he was after dirty sex and reputation only, especially with an awful lot of persuasion on your behalf.

You’d always known there was something wrong with that billionaire. (Y/F/N) had snapped when she had found out about the sex trafficking crimes he had wanted to drag her into. “Slut sharing” as he had called it, offering her to be passed around as his property for his friend’s pleasure in exchange for some cash. Disgusting idiot. (Y/F/N) had been able to get out of there before things got too critical, not, however, before sneaking one of his credit cards into her pocket before leaving. Her brother had taken care of the invisibility of the expenses, so the billionaire wasn’t able to track her down. Now here you were. Suffering with her and helping her get over her heartache in an outrageously revealing costume to go to a Halloween party in a bloody five star hotel. Well, it could be worse, you figured.

Finally, (Y/F/N) stepped out of the bathroom. She looked as stunning as always, with red highlights in her hair and her face accentuating her eyes and two red horns on top of her head.

“Who knows, maybe tonight, you’ll get laid too. You really need it, (Y/N), you started giving names to the plants in your apartment!”

“Talking to them helps them grow,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “I read it online.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Your best friend rolled her eyes. “Let’s go have some fun.”

* * *

It resulted in the same situation every time the both of you went out for the night. (Y/F/N) was flirting with everything that looked male for hours on end while you kept sitting at the bar in an unmotivated manner, watching her picking her prey. You couldn’t blame her, really. Men repeatedly fell to her feet and for her charm and especially after that billionaire, she deserved a bit of fun. You would have fun with your cocktail—a new cocktail. Yours was empty again.

Just as the thought stroke you, the bartender placed a glass filled with an orange liquid in front of you.

“I didn’t order that,” you remarked with a frown, doubting that he had read your thoughts. The bartender nodded. “That man over there did.”

Instantly, your eyes widened. Guys _never_ bought you drinks. (Y/F/N) was usually the one who got all the attention. You simply stayed put in the background, sipping your drink and pondering about why life was so damn unfair and what exactly about your appearance it was that scared all the dudes away. It must have been the costume you wore. It practically screamed “I’m willing, take me!”

Following the bartender’s finger as he pointed to his left, your heart filled with even more surprise as it skipped a beat. He was… he was bloody handsome. The shirt he wore looked like it had been tailored for him, his muscles, clearly visible under the thin fabric, bulged as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, his long digits resting on the smooth and cold surface. He had piercing blue eyes and dark blonde hair, his jawline was sharp. He was tall, too. Much taller than you were; and the only hint of a costume was a black mask covering the rest of his face. You could swear he had not been there only seconds ago. What was it he was portraying tonight? A phantom?

He noticed you were mustering him only the twinkling of an eye after. His blue eyes met yours, locking you in place as jolts of electricity cursed through your body, tingling from head to toe. It was like by simply staring at you in this scrutinising and yet alluring manner, he was learning all of your darkest secrets—it filled you with both fear and excitement.

“Thank you,” you mouthed out of breath, eliciting an enchanting smirk from him. Another second passed before he started strolling over to you, his confident tread sending shivers down your spine. His sheer presence was breath-taking. You could smell the hint of an expensive perfume on him, admire his features up close. He… seemed like a decent and honourable man. Maybe just this once, you would get lucky too.

“Jonathan Pine,” he introduced himself, offering you his hand. You took it after returning his polite smile, attempting to ignore how soft it felt. Electric thrills shot through your body when you touched him.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Thank you for the drink.”

“No need to thank me. I’ve been watching you for quite a while already, (Y/N).” The way he spoke your name… it sounded like you had given him power over you… and you were yet to find out whether this was a good thing. “You look gorgeous.” _And_ he had an English accent. Your knees melted to pudding already.

Compliments. When was the last time a man had given you compliments? Oh, this guy was heaven!

“Th-thank you. And, uh, you decided to revive the Phantom of the Opera?” You asked, tugging a streak of your hair behind your ear.

Jonathan chuckled, facing the expensive carpet for a moment. “Yes, so to speak. Listen, I, uh… I normally don’t do this but I was wondering… could we go somewhere private? It’s quite full here,”

Once again, your eyes widened. Somewhere private? This man looked like the personification of a true English Gentleman. One night with him… what woman wouldn’t kill for that? So you bit your lower lip and nodded.

“Of course,” you answered with a seductive—or at least you hoped it would appear so—smile. “It’s way too crowded here, you’re right.”

* * *

You did not object when Jonathan suggested going to your suite instead of his. Perhaps he wasn’t the tidiest of people. The cleaner wouldn’t return until tomorrow morning, after all. So you led him to (Y/F/N)’s and your room instead, grateful for having put away all of the make-up before leaving. It would have been a chaotic mess.

“So… there we go, this is our—“ You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Jonathan’s mouth was on yours before you were even able to switch on the lights. His thin and oh so soft lips moved against yours, his hands seemed to be touching you everywhere. Greedily, they travelled down your body and probed your hips before coming to a rest on your arse, kneading it eagerly.

Your tongues were fighting a vengeful battle, fighting for dominance Jonathan rapidly won by pushing you against a nearby wall, pinning you against it. He pulled away from your now swollen lips only to attack your neck with moist and hot kisses, licking over your pulse attentively and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips to leave love bites, all the while his hands reached down to push up your skirt until it was resting around your hips.

Your panties were anything but sexy but right now, you couldn’t care less. It was dark in the room anyway. All you were able to focus on were his long and sinful digits, tracing your flesh and ghosting over the soft skin on your thighs before sneaking between them.

Growling in an animalistic manner, he claimed your mouth again, kissing you passionately, longingly even as he tore the thin piece of fabric to the side to expose your glistening sex to him. Oh, bloody hell, you were so wet for him. Your folds were shimmering with moisture, your slick arousal coating his skin as he ran two fingers over them, forcing you to moan into his mouth and shiver under his light touch.

He wasted no time in exploring your most intimate parts until he found what he was looking for. Your swollen clit was throbbing with need, begging for attention he was promising to give it. Painfully slow, he tapped it twice before circling it over and over again.

Already, you could feel yourself climbing the ladder of climax. He knew what he was doing, knew exactly how to pleasure a woman. You were jelly in his arms and if he hadn’t pressed you against the wall, your legs would have ceased to support you any longer by now.

Soon, he replaced his index finger with his thumb, collecting a bit more of your juices to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves even firmer. His fingers went travelling again, this time teasing your entrance, relentlessly, until you were but a whining and moaning mess before him.

No man had ever been able to bring you this close to orgasm with just his fingers!

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you tensed up as he pushed them deep inside you, curling them at just the right spot. Jonathan started fingering you furiously, his thumb never stopping to rub your swollen nub.

“Fuck, Jonathan, I-I’m… I’m gonna cum!” You yelled into the still dark room. His growl was the only sound you got in response but it was enough to send you flying over the edge. Your orgasm tore through you vividly, robbing you of all your senses. A glistening light seemed to spread around you, the hot waves of the aftershocks having you tremble and spasm, again and again, around his wonderful fingers, coating them with your cum.

When you had cooled down again, Jonathan stopped, only slowly removing his fingers from your still pulsating walls, contracting around nothingness when he slid them out of you. As you were slumping down, exhausted beyond sanity, he quickly caught you, lifting you up effortlessly and gently laying you down on the bed. He joined you when you sat up despite your light dizziness, your cheeks still hot and red from all the pure pleasure rushing through your veins.

“Was that good?” He whispered hoarsely. Desire was sparkling in his blue eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had watched you come undone…

“That… that was more than just good, that was… amazing… It’s your turn now.” You decided, attempting to push him down on the bed. You wanted to give him the pleasure he had just let you experience, give something back for those blissful minutes. Normally, you didn’t even do blowjobs, for you had quite the strong gag reflex but for him, you would try. You’d sink to your knees for that man in any sense, anyway, for Fuck’s sake.

He, however, didn’t move an inch.

“I can’t go any fur—“ he stopped in mid-sentence as if he had prattled away. “(Y/N), you have a friend. Her name is (Y/F/N)…”

 _Oh._ Disappointment rushed through your veins. This guy had just made you cum on his fingers and now he asked for your best friend instead. Were you not sexy enough after all? Were you not as wild in bed as she would be? But then again, how would he know?

“What about her?” You asked, trying hard to sound unaffected. Still, your voice was shaking. All of a sudden, you were close to tears, combined with the feeling of the growing urge to punch him in the face.

“Is she… is she in a relationship? Currently?”

Now, your felt your heart shattering into a thousand pieces. A guy… so charming and considerate, who was using sex—or fingering for that matter—for the sole purpose of engaging another woman… that was new. However, it hurt all the more. The moment you had shared with him was intimate, personal. You didn’t usually do one night stands but for this guy, you jettisoned all of your morals and principles. _That’s what you get if you let your heart win, you stupid bitch!_

“Wow. And here I was, thinking that for once, a guy might actually like me over my perfect best friend.”

Jonathan paused, irritated. “What? No, (Y/N), you are a wonderful woman, I simply thought…”

“What?! You thought what? ‘Hey, this girl looks lonely and desperate, let’s stand her a drink and then fuck her senseless for information about another woman’?!” The tears were worsening your sight now, stinging in your eyes.

“Look. I am not who you think I am. I’m after Keith Leonard and your friend will bring me a huge step closer to him.”

What? Keith Leonard? “The billionaire?” You asked, frowning.

“Yes. You know him.”

“I’ve met him twice. (Y/F/N) and he dated for a few months before… well, before…”

“Before he tried to sell her as a sex slave to his billionaire friends?” He finished your sentence. Frowning once more, you nodded. “It’s short of a miracle she made it out alive.”

“Who are you?” You asked, suspicious with a start. What if he was working for him? What if he had found you both despite (Y/F/N)’s brother’s painstaking safety measures? You had to let her know, you had to…

Slowly, Jonathan shook his head, glancing at you in a both scolding and caring way. “Knowing would put you in danger.”

Immediately, anger boiled in your stomach again, your fear forgotten for a moment.

“Oh? But seducing me for information _wouldn’t_ put me in danger?! Guess I was just a convenience, wasn’t I?” You spat, you tears rolling down your cheeks freely now.

“When I engaged you, I was not sure whatsoever if you were who I was looking for. (Y/F/N)’s best friend, the girl she had bolted with, with a massive amount of money stolen from Keith Leonard. I didn’t even know your name but I knew (Y/F/N)’s and when you brought me to this suite and I saw the room number, I could be sure it was you.”

He was trying to explain he would have tested his flirting skills on you either way. You appreciated the thought but in the end, you were still nothing more than a tool. Why the fuck would you be happy about his remark then? Why did you hope he would stop playing detective for a second and fuck you into the mattress until you forgot your own bloody name anyway?!

“And now what? You want me to help you snuff the billionaire?” You snapped defiantly.

“No. I need (Y/F/N)’s phone. My colleagues will be able to track down some dirty details of Leonard’s whereabouts. He bought it for her, didn’t he?”

“He did…”

(Y/F/N) kept her phone in the safe. During the party, so she had claimed, she wouldn’t need it anyway. Jonathan was lucky. Or maybe he had known anyway. Only God knew for long he had been spying on your best friend already.

“Why didn’t you just ask her yourself?”

“My profession requires of me to be discreet at all times. Plus I desperately wanted to know what you look like when you scream in ecstasy,” he shot back with a lustful sparkling in his blue eyes. Gulping, you pressed your thighs together. His words had sent a thrill of excitement right into your wet core. You were ready to cum for him again if that was what he wanted.

“F-fine, let me get it for you.” You finally stuttered, your voice barely audible.

Your legs trembling a little, you got up and walked over to the safe. Typing in the combination, you watched the Englishman from the corner of your eye. He was still sitting there patiently, never taking his eyes off your form until you returned to him and handed him (Y/F/N)’s phone.

He was quick to unlock it, leaving you wondering where the hell he had gotten the pin code and then proceeded to press a few buttons and scribble down a gibberish of numbers and letters on a piece of paper, which he tugged safely into his pockets after he was done and gave it back to you.

“Thank you, (Y/N). You really helped me with this. I cannot make any promises but I will try and bring that coward down. For all the girls he ever forced into prostitution and (Y/F/N), of course.” He stated dryly. Honesty was humming in his voice, along with sincere cordiality. You believed him. You believed every word, even if he had just fooled you and your burning desire but you just couldn’t help it. There was something about him that intrigued you, although you knew nothing at all about him.

Jonathan took a step forward to cup your face with his large and soft hands, kissing you tenderly one more time before taking his leave.

“C-can I see you again?” You hurried to say.

Jonathan smirked. “I would love that, (Y/N). I’ll find you when the time is right.”

And with that, he left the suite, leaving you wondering idly how the hell you would explain all of this to your best friend once she came back from _her_ one night stand. You bet it wouldn’t even be half as exciting as what you had just experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥


	2. Imagine meeting Jonathan Pine at a crime dinner (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine meeting Jonathan Pine at a crime dinner (Part II)

_Words: 1049  
Warnings: mentions of murder and blood, implied smut_

* * *

 

It was supposed to be your day off from work. Your best friend had persuaded you to join her for this apparently “entertaining” crime dinner. It was an ordinary restaurant, really, but there was catch. Along with a bottle of delicious red wine, you got an envelope with a crime you needed to solve in between the courses.

An interesting idea but it was far from what you imagined to be a fun night. Much rather you preferred to read a good book in bed, drinking a hot cup of tea instead. Your best friend had had different plans for you.

Ever since that incidence in the five star hotel, she had somewhat changed. She desperately kept trying to experience new things now, knowing that with the wrong person, her life could end sooner than expected.

You still hadn’t told her about Jonathan but you hadn’t, of course, met him again either. Two months had passed and unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to forget him. At night, when you were all alone in your apartment, you would sometimes touch yourself, thinking of how his skilled fingers had played you like an instrument, how his soft lips had devoured yours and how he had smiled at you like a true Gentleman.

You _wanted_ to see him again, see where this could take you. You would never find out now.

“I think the old lady over there is the murderer. She’s left-handed. According to the report, the murderer is left-handed too.”

“(Y/F/N), many people in here are left-handed. Even I am. They could all be the murderer. For all I know, _you_ could be. You’re not, are you?” You asked suspiciously. Your best friend giggled.

“I am definitely not. What about that guy back there? He looks like he could be a suspect. All alone and quiet…  he has a motive.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned around—and froze. You recognised him. His sharp features, the blue eyes, that severe expression… it was Jonathan and when he turned to lock his eyes with you, noticing somebody was staring at him, his eyes widened ever so slightly.

He stood, slowly, walking towards you until your best friend squirmed on her seat.

“Oh my God… now he’s gonna kill us too, you’ll see… with his handsomeness. Holy shit, that man…”

If only she knew you had made out with him already. God, if only she knew he had made you _cum_ already! Instantly, you remembered the look on his face as he had watched you climaxing for him. The memory of it soaked your panties within seconds.

Without hesitation, Jonathan took the third chair at your table and sat down, his gaze still resting on you in an almost scrutinising manner.

“(Y/N).” He greeted you, nodding while your best friend’s jaw dropped.

“You didn’t tell me you knew each other! Are you the murderer?” She asked excitedly. Jonathan gave her a polite smile.

“If I were, I could not tell you.” He said. Your heart skipped a beat. You had missed his smooth voice too. Jonathan had been haunting your dreams regularly ever since you first met. Damn your best friend for trying to flirt with him. She didn’t care if he was the murderer or not.

“How are you doing?” He asked quietly when she turned to the waiter who just approached your table to refill your glasses.

“You found me,” you only said instead of answering his question. Jonathan nodded. “I didn’t know you would be here tonight though.”

“It’s great to see you.”

“It’s really great to see you too.” The urge to kiss him grew with every second. For all you cared, you could drag him into the bathroom and let him work his magic again. This time, however, you would repay him for it. You wondered what his cock would taste like. Sweet, salty, maybe both? His lips were delicious, surely the rest of his body was too.

You cleared your throat to focus again.

“What happened to Keith Leonard?” You asked then, biting your lower lip.

Jonathan took a deep breath. “He got taken care of. He will be arrested in time, don’t worry. You should be focusing on the crime right now.” He teased, smirking at you. Your heart skipped another beat, your lower regions clenching.

“To be honest, my best friend dragged me here. I don’t even want to be here.” There was another reason you didn’t want to take part in solving the riddle. Jonathan seemed to see right through it. He smirked once more, making you wanting to kiss him passionately.

“You’re the murderer, aren’t you?” He whispered.

Nodding slowly, you licked your lips.

“Jonathan… let me come with you tonight.”

“(Y/N), that is too dangerous. No.” He replied sternly.

“You already disappeared once, I want to see you again. Let me stay with you, Jonathan, please. Besides, you started something last time you haven’t finished.” It was the wine that made you this cocky again, it had to be. He would have to talk to you tomorrow when you were sober again. _If_ there would be a tomorrow this time.

“Well. I am the police officer in this game. I will have to take you with me anyway.” He taunted. Then, he became a little more serious. “(Y/N), I can’t promise I will be around at all times if we try this. Being close to me is dangerous. I cannot have any weaknesses if I want to continue what I am doing.”

“I understand that,” you murmured. “Just… be with me tonight. I missed you.” _And you made me feel special for once_ , you added silently.

Everything about Jonathan intrigued you. He was an extraordinary man and you would be damned if you just let him go again. Silently, you wondered if he possessed handcuffs, pondering over whether he or you would be the one wearing them in bed tonight.

“Very well then… (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he began a little louder then, making sure your best friend could hear him. “You are hereby arrested for the murder on Chuck Kelvin.”

He sealed his words with a tender kiss before leading you out of the restaurant, the other guests clapping and cheering, for he had solved yet another crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥


	3. Imagine Jonathan Pine saving you from your abusive boyfriend on Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Jonathan Pine saving you from your abusive boyfriend on Christmas

_Words: 1955  
Warnings: blackmailing, mentions of dub-con, mentions of abuse, mentions of violence and mentions of murder (so merry)_

* * *

 

The freezing air outside mercilessly wrapped around your body when you climbed out of the black SUV and readjusted your blue silken scarf. It mostly served to cover up the greenish bruise decorating your neck. Stephen had thrown another temper tantrum yesterday, letting it all out on you yet again. Your whole body was covered in bruises, purple, blue and yellow dots that shone out from your skin.

He had advised you repeatedly to hide them, threatening you to add a couple more if you showed them to anybody and pain was persuasive. So you kept your mouth shut, covering yourself in long winter coats, designer sweaters he bought you and expensive scarfs.

“Come on, puppet, let’s head inside.” _Puppet._ You hated the nickname he had for you, treating you like a fuck toy rather than an actual person. Why you were still staying with him? You had talked about it with your best friend once, who had practically begged you to dump him and come live at her place for a while.

You didn’t even love him anymore—he was but a cruel, abusive and violent man, making you nauseous rather than awakening butterflies in your belly. But exactly there lay the problem. Fear was persuasive too and Stephen had, after you trying to break up with him, not once threatened to kill both you and your family if you left him. A girlfriend would look _good_ by his side he had said, showing he was as admirable as he was rich and that he didn’t want to spend his money on an actress or a whore.

None of the luxurious gifts be bought you to calm his conscious—if he had one, that was—made up for the horrors you kept going through and still, you kept hanging in there. One day, you would get away. One day, you would be free of this monster.

Following Stephen inside, you let out a breath of relief when the warmth of the hotel enveloped your trembling form. The furniture around here hadn’t changed.

Every year over the holidays, Stephen booked a room in the same exclusive hotel in Switzerland, high up in the mountains where no one would bother him. Only few people could afford a room for even one night and the service was beyond impressive, yet nothing compared to a merry Christmas with friends and family.

The last time you had spent the holidays with them had been three years ago. Here, in this hotel, the staff prepared you a Christmas tree, cooked traditional British dinner and even offered to wrap your presents for you, which you usually shipped off two weeks before Christmas. This year you had already taken care of that yourself, given it was the 24th already.

Suspecting you were unhappy in this gross relationship, they attempted everything to make it worth your while, treating you like a real princess and spoiling you sparing no expenses. There wasn’t much you asked for but whenever there was something you needed, they were here for you—something you couldn’t exactly say about your boyfriend.

There was one man you were particularly fond of. A staff member, enchanting you with his British accent. The Night Manager. One year ago, after another antagonising bruise Stephen had beautified you with on Christmas Eve, you had spent hours in the lobby, talking to this mysterious young man called Jonathan Pine.

Ever since then, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Dreaming of him… fantasising about him… surely, as your boyfriend, he would treat you entirely different. He was a charming gentleman and you hoped that this year, your beloved Night Manager would be here again. And he was.

He was already smiling at you when you joined Stephen at the reception, explaining some last details about the hotel, the pool and room cleaning before handing him the key to his suite. His blue gaze longingly rested on you almost too long when you turned your head to nod at him shyly, promising mutely you would pay him a visit a little later.

You knew there was a heated pool downstairs and it was the perfect excuse to sneak out of Stephen’s suite at night and talk to Jonathan again. You had missed him and, judging by the tender gaze he had struck you with, he had missed you too.

It was quite late already. You knew Stephen would go to sleep soon. He always worked on Christmas Day, not bothering about merriment or other frippery. He reminded you of Scrooge sometimes—greedy, heartless and unnecessarily cruel.

“Where’re you going?” He snapped when you thanked one of the staff members for bringing in your luggage, then removed your winter jacket and made your way back to the door.

“Downstairs, for a swim, to warm up, darling.”

“Well, too bad. You stay, I want to fuck.” Flinching, you took a deep breath, your fingers not quite touching the door knob. You used to love having sex with Stephen. He knew where to touch a woman to send her flying above the clouds but now, even if it still felt good to lie underneath him, all you ever saw was him bringing his fists to your body when he was in a bad mood. If once it had been a loving and sweet experience, now it was just sex.

Thus far, he hadn’t forced himself on you but not for a second did you doubt he would if refused to get on the bed now. You sighed mutely, giving him a fake cheeky smile before removing your clothes.

* * *

You thought about him. The whole time—every touch, every stroke, every sweet nothing Stephen whispered into your ear (and didn’t mean)… you thought about Jonathan. When he was finally asleep, you quietly sneaked out of the room with nothing more than your bathrobe on and tiptoed downstairs.

As expected, the Night Manager was standing behind the reception, lost in some papers. He looked up in surprise when he heard you approaching, his face lighting up upon recognising you. His blue eyes sent pleasant shivers up and down your spine and when you smiled at him, pulling him in a cordial hug, he sighed.

“It’s so good to see you, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad you’re still here.”

Jonathan smirked. “I always am,” He paused then, frowning at the greenish mark on your neck, shaped like a hand.

“It’s nothing. He’s done worse.”

“I know. This needs to stop, (Y/N).”

Hopeless, you shook your head. “One day maybe…” Another pause, this time on your behalf. “I… I was thinking about you.”

Jonathan furrowed his brows. A barely visible smile crept up on his lips.

“(Y/N)…” You loved the way he said your name. His smooth and velvety voice never failed to lull you into comfort and calmness. “It has to stop _now_. I can help you. Come on, sit with me.”

He could help you? How would he help you? He was a _Night Manager_ , not some dangerous undercover spy… right? Jonathan led you straight into a staff room behind the reception. Apart from a desk with a computer on it, a weak lamp and a couch, it was rather empty and still, you felt cosier than you did up in the suite with Stephen.

He motioned for you to sit down on the couch, which you did, hugging yourself in the process. You were alone now… no one would ever know if you two… clearing your throat, you watched him pacing up and down before coming to a stop right in front of you. You looked up at him, waiting for him to speak up again.

“I am not who you think I am.”

“Your name is not Jonathan Pine and you are not a Night Manager?”

He smiled weakly. “I am but I am also… I work for the government.” Your heart leapt into your throat. No… he really was a spy.

“I have been watching your… _boyfriend_ for a little over two years now and I think I have finally collected enough evidence to get him into jail for his crimes. My friends are currently on the way to the hotel to arrest him.”

Was the room spinning? Was it your head? Your lips parted in shock and surprise, causing Jonathan to rush to your side to support you.

“No… Jonathan, he is going to _kill_ you. He’s tricked the police many times before, you can’t just… I know he’s done terrible things but… don’t… don’t do that. He won’t rest until you’re dead.”

“Don’t worry.”

As if on cue, the entrance to the hotel opened, revealing a woman and two heavily armoured police officers. You could see them through the door but when you stood to go back outside, Jonathan held you back.

“No, (Y/N). Wait here, it’ll be safer. He might think you backstabbed him and attack you. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

He didn’t leave you any time to reply and ask one of the million questions racing through your head like pixies. Instead, he left the room and gently closed the door behind him, talking to his colleagues. You could hear them ascending the stairs and then, for a few minutes, it was utterly, eerily quiet.

Only moments after, the shooting started. Stephen usually slept with a gun—he was paranoid. Praying that nothing would happen to Jonathan or his friends, you listened to dull fighting and heavy footsteps, flinching every time you heard fists connecting to body parts.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Had Santa finally heard your plea? Had he sent you Jonathan to rescue you, to save you? The Night Manager now seemed like a blue-eyed angel you wanted to hold on to for the rest of your life.

Only an hour ago you had, more or less willingly, let Stephen use your body for his pleasure, and now, the police was finally about to handcuff him and lock him behind metal bars where he belonged. It was a Christmas miracle. You had only ever read of those in books.

You literally jumped when Jonathan entered the small room again, his lower lip bleeding a little from a seemingly painful blow.

“Are you alright? What happened? Where is he? Did you get him?”

“He is being brought to the nearest police station right now. I’m okay, it’s just a scratch.” He panted, forcing himself to smile.

“It doesn’t look like a scratch. Let me…” Time seemed to stop when you approached him, gently cupping his chin with one hand to touch his wound with the other, carefully, so you wouldn’t hurt him.

“(Y/N)… it’ll heal. I’ve had worse.” Jonathan’s blue eyes locked with yours, trapping you in a world where there was hope and a future. Stephen was gone… Jonathan had saved your life.

Instead of replying, you gave in, submitting to the magical energy between you, the electricity buzzing between your bodies like a powerful reactor. Every fibre of your being longed to be touched by this wonderful man before you, desperate to push against him and feel his skin against yours.

Hesitating because you didn’t want to scare him away, you brought up your hands to cup his cheeks, enjoying how warm his clean-shaven skin felt against your palms, and softly kissed him.

“Thank you,” you murmured when you pulled away again, tears glistening in your eyes. “Thank you…”

“You can stay with me for a while, if you like. I can take care of you.”

Nodding, you smiled up at him.

“Please. I would like that. Merry Christmas, Jonathan.”

His concerned expression softened upon hearing your whispered words. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

It was him who kissed you first this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥


	4. Imagine Jonathan Pine saving your life after you both end up going after the same target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Jonathan Pine saving your life after you both end up going after the same target

_Words: 2556  
Warnings: violence_

* * *

 

Being a female spy had one great advantage—you could flirt your target into believing he was safe and you were but an innocent and young girl, knowing nothing about all the red on his ledger. Over the years, it had proven to be the most effective way to gather information and on top of that, it was the least risky option. No man who fancied sex every now and then would suspect you to be the culprit when it came down to it. Not that you would sleep with those douchebags though. You always ended it before they tried luring you into their beds, using mischievous tricks to make them believe why it was better to wait.

You grinned at your own reflexion in the mirror, your red lips complementing your eyes. You would make him _mad_ tonight. A private dinner party to which he had invited you as a close friend, an occasion you had bought a pretty black dress for. Attending there would be business partners of his, important allies whose names you sucked up like a sponge. Soon, you’d have enough information and proof to go to the FBI, they would take care of the rest. You didn’t get your hands dirty—ever. You were way too clever for that.

“Ah! My beloved (Y/N), there you are! My friends, this is Miss Johnson!” Miss Johnson was your fake last name. Protection was your most important tool, after all. Not even your clients knew your real name.

Several men turned to stare at you like prey, their greedy eyes resting on your gracious cleavage. Combined with a few glasses of champagne, this dress would loosen their tongues tonight so fast you almost felt sorry for them.

Most men were powerless when it came to the weapons of a woman. Manipulation was your middle name and you loved the attention. It made you all the more less suspicious.

“I’m so thrilled you invited me, Karl, thank you so much.” Smiling sweetly, you allowed him to place his hand on your hip and kiss your cheek to greet you. There was another man with him, silent, calm and watching your every move. You knew that kind of look. If you dropped a needle, he would notice. His inconspicuous staring was almost fascinating. Icy blue eyes boring into yours when your curious gaze met his.

“Darling, this is Mr Jonathan Pine. Right hand man of a very good friend of mine overseas—an awful lot of very profitable deals.”

Jonathan Pine. Was it his real name? Karl himself owned several passports, you had found them when prying into his personal stuff one night after he had fallen asleep completely drunk, believing you had slept together.

“Pleasure to meet you. I have heard a lot about you already.” He spoke sternly, offering you his hand. Oh, he was English too. What a cliché. But there was something about him that did not quite feel right. He didn’t fit into this whole… ambient. And much more importantly, you instantly decided that you did not trust him in the slightest. The feeling was mutual—you could tell when you locked eyes again.

“Excuse me for a moment, will you?” Karl kissed your cheek once more before reluctantly letting go of your hip to join one of his business partners. It urged you to stroll along and eavesdrop but right now, it would appear too suspicious. To Karl, you were but a silly young woman in desperate need of some attention and fame to become a popular actress.

“I was just wondering, what does a young actress do at a dinner party like this?” _Damn it_ , you had let down your guard. You had barely noticed Jonathan still watching you intently. Still, you smiled when you looked at him. Your made up identity was so detailed you could write a novel—actually, you were working on one already. Your adventures, for that was what you called them, were way too precious to be forgotten. So you wrote them down. Each and every single one of them.

“I met Karl in his favourite movie theatre. We both went to see the new MARVEL movie. You take it from here, he is wonderful.” You lied, faking a lovely and innocent smile.

“Incredibly wealthy, you mean.”

“Oh, wow, I am not after his money, Mr Pine.” _If that is your real name, mysterious Englishman._

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “I have met a lot of women like you. You’re all the same.”

Frowning, you gritted your teeth, lowering your voice when you replied.

“You know nothing about me. How dare you?”

He responded nothing to that, instead simply stared at you, thinking hard. Half a minute later, he turned away and accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters.

* * *

You missed your chance that night. Karl got drunk enough for you to lure him into his bedroom again. He passed out before you had to take off your dress to make him believe you were about to have sex. His office was right next door. You had found the key hidden in a box of condoms but when you tiptoed towards it with bare feet and your high heels in hand, you suddenly heard footsteps nearing the bedroom.

Jonathan Pine’s expression was all but surprised and regretful when he peeked through the half open door and spotted you standing on the carpet, frozen to the spot.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were… well.” _Yes, you did._ _And you foiled my plan, you tea drinking moron._ It was then you decided—you absolutely hated this strange man.

Forcing a fake smile, you clutched the key tighter and hid it behind your back. Fortunately, he could barely see it in the dimly lit room.

“We weren’t. I mean, we were going to but he had a little too much tonight. Bad luck for me…” You mused, making your way outside. Jonathan moved away only reluctantly, his blue eyes watching every step of yours until you found yourself in the empty hallway. The mansion Karl lived in was so big almost every guest had their own wing. You were completely undisturbed.

And therefore, it should not have surprised you when Jonathan suddenly grabbed your arm firmly, pulled you against him you stumbled and then pressed you against the wall, his body trapping yours. You could feel his muscles dancing against your covered skin, his blue eyes narrowed at you.

“Who do you work for?” He growled darkly, his tone threatening. _Shit._ You should have known better—trusted your gut feeling and kept an eye on him. Playing innocent now would only worsen the situation. Jonathan was way too smart for that.

Now what did they always say? _Offence is the best defence._

“I could ask you the same question, _Pine._ If that is your real name, of course.”

Jonathan growled once more. The sound of it was almost _hot._ Or maybe that was just the excitement that came with confrontation. He might be attractive but he was the enemy—your opponent and maybe even a threat to your life.

“Yes. It is. I was sent in by an English organisation which works on bringing down Karl Decker and his cronies. That is all you need to know about me.”

A bitter smile crept up on your lips. “I knew there was something wrong about you. How did you know? That I am not who I pretend to be?”

“It was the way you reacted when I accused you of being with Decker because of his money. What are you _really_ after?”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “That is none of your business. All _you_ need to know is that _I_ will bring him down.”

“And how successful were you with that thus far?” There was no amusement in his voice when he spoke, causing you to lift your chin and cross your arms. You had barely no room for the defiant movement, for he still had you pinned against the wall.

“Again—none of your business. Whoever you are, I am one step ahead of you.”

“Really? I got in without offering my cleavage as ransom, what’s your excuse?” Jonathan spat, glaring at you angrily.

“Oh, screw you.”

Fighting for composure, he took a deep breath.

“Look. We are both after the same thing. Given you are so keen on keeping your associates a secret I’m assuming you don’t have any. You work alone, taking private jobs and I bet most of what you do is illegal anyway.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he just kept on talking.

“Johnson is not your real name. You travelled here with a false passport but you never bothered to deregister your old one. (Y/L) (Y/L/N).” _Shit._ He was good—way too good. “You should be more careful. If I can get a hold of this information, Decker will be able to acquire it too.”

Hissing, you shoved him away from you. He only moved a couple of inches but it helped your growing rage when you started seeing red. “I don’t need your advice, _Pine._ ”

“No,” he agreed darkly. “You don’t. You need my help. Decker trusts you. Keep him occupied and I will get us the information we need to tip him off.”

Now it was your time to scoff. “See, the reason I work alone is that I don’t like to share. I don’t even know you. And quite frankly, I don’t particularly like you.” _I do think you are outrageously handsome—but that doesn’t count_ , you added silently.

“That is mutual.” Pine stated dryly, pursing his lips in the process. “Whoever hired you for this job, you will still get your money. I stay completely out of it.”

You could feel his hot breath on your lips when he spoke. By now, he was so close your faces were only inches apart, both of you whispering quietly.

You had to weigh your options. If you declined his offer, would he bust you? If he got the information—the papers—you were looking for first, you were screwed, your reputation, your safety and your money gone.

If he helped you… you could still claim you had worked alone and not mention him with a word.

“Fine,” you finally spat. “Let’s do it.”

Karl stirred. The bed sheets were rustling—you could hear him groan. Presuming he had simply turned in his sleep, you kept your eyes on Jonathan. _Arrogant English bastard._

He nodded. “We have the same goal, (Y/N). I’m not your enemy.”

_We’ll see about that._

The sheets rustled again, a body shifting on the bed. Rolling your eyes, you went back inside. If he woke up, Karl had to find you beside him. Jonathan let go of you when he realised but when you entered the bedroom again, the bed was empty.

 _Shit._ Had he gone to the bathroom to throw up? The drawer was open—he might be looking for painkillers.

When you turned, you saw a swift movement from the corner of your eye. Putting on your fake smile, you watched a half-naked Karl approaching you so slowly you feared he was simply sleepwalking.

“I thought you fell asleep on me, baby.” You mused innocently.

Karl growled, his right arm twitching. Did he even hear you?

Only when Jonathan burst into the room, you realised you were in grave _danger._

“(Y/N)… (Y/N), move away, he has a gun!”

Ripping your eyes open in fear, you were thrown to the ground right before a metal bullet collided with the wall behind you.

“The key, darling. Give me my fucking key and then, you will tell me who you are and what you want. You and your little friend right here. Tell me _now_ and I might consider killing you both quickly.”

Karl was not joking. And Pine had distracted you long enough for him to wake up. He had most likely reached for his condoms to finish what he had started and then noticed that his key—and you—were gone.

Trembling with fear, you looked up at Jonathan, who still shielded you with his body. His blue eyes were boring into yours. Thanks to the darkness in the room, Karl could barely see you. Jonathan Pine had just saved your life. Maybe he was not so bad after all.

“And now what?” You whispered, looking up at him with fear.

“Hide downstairs, lock yourself in the bathroom. They will have heard the shot.”

“And you?”

Jonathan gave you a strange look, almost as if he was going to sacrifice himself—but you knew he wouldn’t. He was skilled and smart enough to survive this. If he was being witty about this, he’d even get away _with_ the papers and _without_ killing Karl.

“Just go. I will pick you up.”

You had no choice other than to trust him. So you did as you were told and started at the bathroom, locking it behind you just in time before Karl’s security turned around the corner. They were going to check on him… and instead would find Jonathan with him.

You had no idea for how long you cowered in the bathtub, listening to your own heartbeat and flinching at every footstep you heard outside. When did this happen? When had you started relying on this self-confident Englishman? You… _hated_ him… or maybe you just pretended you did because he had done a better job than you had.

_Don’t forget… he’d saved your life…_

A knock on the door startled you. Biting your lower lip anxiously, you held your breath.

“(Y/N)… it’s me.” _Jonathan._ Relieved, you climbed out of the bathtub and snatched your high heels. No evidence. You couldn’t leave behind anything here—not if you wanted to stay out of whatever occurred after you were gone again, accepting a cheque.

You unlocked the door only to reveal him panting, his forehead sweaty and his shirt stained with blood—hopefully not his own.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking, you nodded. Why was he asking for _your_ safety? Did he not hate you?

“We go through the back door.” He commanded, his voice gentler than it should probably be.

“Did you get the papers?”

Jonathan paused. Then, he nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.”

You gasped when he reached for your wrist and firmly dragged you with him, knowing you would follow him either way. He acted almost as if he was concerned for you and maybe… maybe he actually was.

“Jonathan?” Your voice was but a mere whisper when you finally left the house and silently closed the door behind you. There was a vehicle waiting for him. Would he take you with him? Or just leave you to yourself now?

The spy turned around, frowning as he waited for you to go on.

“Thank you.”

He only nodded in response, and then surprised you by shoving you towards the car. Only when you were both seated inside and the driver, a friend and co-worker of his, as you learned, started the engine and fled with you, you snapped, wrapping your arms around Jonathan’s body.

Sighing, he held you for a while until you had calmed enough, your shaking dying down ever so slowly. Yeah. He was not so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥


	5. Imagine Jonathan Pine being unable to take his eyes off of you during a fancy Halloween party. Jealousy hits him when you dance with one of your male friends, wishing to take his place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Jonathan Pine being unable to take his eyes off of you during a fancy Halloween party. Jealousy hits him when you dance with one of your male friends, wishing to take his place

_Words: 1181  
Warnings: none_

* * *

 

Taking your mind off things—that was what your best friend had told you before dragging you to a fancy Halloween party in of the most expensive hotels in the country. Her father worked in the film industry, meaning she had the financial and social means to get an invitation and drag you along as her plus one.

You appreciated the offer but then again, did you really belong here? Your Halloween costume was a black second-hand dress and cheap fake blood you had used along with some latex to make it look like you had just been bitten by a vampire, when you looked around yourself, however, you didn’t even want to imagine the fortune the people partying in the hotel had spent on theirs.

Your best friend had reassured you that you looked absolutely fine and that no one would notice, given most of these people were pretty self-absorbed but unfortunately, that didn’t exactly help to calm you down. There was only one other person in the vast lobby that you knew—Robert, working as a production designer for Marvel. He always managed to make you smile. You let out a relieved sigh when you found him in the crowd. Your best friend soon joined you, handing you a glass of what you assumed must have been champagne. It didn’t taste nearly as good as it had probably cost but you were desperate to fit in—you drank, more and more until you felt yourself getting tipsy.

“You should probably take a break with that stuff, (Y/N),” Robert chuckled, taking the empty glass from your hands. You shrugged, almost stumbling when your best friend suddenly pulled you close to her and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Turn around slowly. There, see that man? In the dark blue suit, the one standing behind the counter? I swear to God, he has been staring at you ever since we arrived here.”

Raising an eyebrow, you eyed him curiously, boldly, until your eyes suddenly met. Electricity rippled through you. He was handsome. Blue eyes, a sharp jawline, lips to die for… maybe this evening could take a turn for the better after all. Mesmerised, you gave him a smile.

“Do you know him?” You asked inconspicuously, disappointed when you had to turn your gaze away again.

Your best friend nodded. “His name is Jonathan Pine. He is the Night Manager here—fulfils your every wish when it gets dark outside.” She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

Robert, oblivious to what you girls had been talking about, snapped his fingers when the music in the lobby changed.

“That is my favourite song. Come on, (Y/N), let’s dance!” You were about to protest—after all, you wished to admire the mysterious Jonathan Pine a little longer—but Robert had already snatched your arm and was dragging you across the dance floor, spinning you around until you felt like throwing up. He was having fun. You loved seeing him smile—and it was short of a miracle it hadn’t fallen in love with him when you first met.

When you finally managed to free yourself from the agitated dancer, you giggled, accepting another glass of champagne from one of the waiters. Your best friend was long gone, probably upstairs in one of the expensive hotel rooms with some famous actor. She had warned you that at some point she would leave you alone and initially, you had been fine with it. Now, however, with all the alcohol in your blood, it made you angry she would leave you among these rich people.

Ugh, you needed a bathroom; freshen up a little bit and use the toilet. You were dizzy, indicating you had definitely had too much champagne. Perhaps you should just call it a night and call a cab to take you home. The only problem was that your best friend was the one carrying a bag—and thus also the one with your phone.

Grunting, you leaned against a pillar.

“Can I help you, Miss?” It was a soft voice, promising and friendly, the British accent incredibly seductive. Shivers went up and down your spine. For some reason, you knew exactly who it belonged to. With your heart in your mouth, you turned to face Jonathan Pine who was looking at you in a concerned manner. Thin lips pressed together, he frowned.

“Y-yes… no. I mean… I want to go home but my best friend has my phone and now she disappeared and I need to call a cab…” _And somehow pay the driver_ , you added silently, realising that you hadn’t brought any money either.

“I can call a cab for you. Would you like a glass of water? You look a little pale.” Did you now? You were definitely not used to drinking champagne _or_ speaking to handsome night managers. How had your best friend put it? _He fulfils your every wish when it gets dark outside?_

Nodding, you let him guide you away from the partying crowd and into a quiet corner where he sat you down on one of the expensive sofas. Mere moments after, he returned with a glass of water which you gulped down greedily before whispering a breathless “thank you”.

“Should I… uh, go and find your partner for you? Does he know you wish to leave?” He choked out, swallowing thickly in the process. Your partner? Frowning, you looked at him. There you were, hoping Jonathan might be interested in you and then he offered to fetch your _partner_ for you?

But you were drunk enough to hear the jealousy in his voice.

He had seen you in the lobby when you arrived… you were beautiful, he had been unable to take his eyes off of you, ignoring his duties as the Night Manager wholly as he watched you moving around, smiling, talking and laughing with your best friend. His own smile had faltered only when he spotted you dancing with Robert, wishing it was him instead. He was the better dancer as well and he was dying to show you…

“I don’t have a partner.” Did he mean Robert, maybe? He must have seen you dancing together! “Robert is one of my best friends.”

“I see,” Jonathan mumbled, hiding his relief. “Then why don’t I call you a cab? I would take you home myself but I’m afraid I’m at work.” He stated with a coy smile.

So maybe that was why he hadn’t made a move yet. Nodding understandingly, you watched him giving you one last careful glance before heading back to the counter, reaching for the telephone. Mere moments after, he returned to you. He was carrying a small envelope. You frowned when he handed it to you.

“That should be enough to pay the driver. I will let your friend know you have gone. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asked, almost hopefully. Holding back a grin, you glanced up at him timidly.

“You could give me your phone number?”

The Night Manager smirked.

“It’s inside the envelope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If you enjoyed this story, make sure to head over to my Tumblr (@sserpente) for more. ♥


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